


Boy, I gotta watch my back, I'm not just anybody

by ClawsxOnxMyxHeartstrings



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: African American Stephanie Brown, Afro-Latino Jason Todd, Also I felt I had to mention, Asian American Jack Drake, Asian American Tim Drake, Civilian Jason, I might rewrite this, I’m not sure if I wrote it well, M/M, Not really though, So this just happened, based on a prompt, beware more tags, crime boss Tim, he was actually roped into this, i haven’t written that much torture, kind of evil Tim, please don't come for me this is my first ever fanfic i've posted like this, the third chapter has a bit of torture in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-04-27 05:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14418780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClawsxOnxMyxHeartstrings/pseuds/ClawsxOnxMyxHeartstrings
Summary: Jason Todd had his heart broken once, he didn't plan on opening it up again. But when he's caught in the middle of a bank robbery, things go very different from the stuff in the movies. There's definitely one face he doesn't expect to be behind a mask of crime. (Based of the prompt: During a bank robbery you're surprised when the criminals seem to recognize you and retreat in fear. Only later do you learn that your high school sweet-heart now runs a global crime syndicate and has you placed on a "No Harm" list. You decide to pay them a visit after all these years.)





	1. Chapter 1

Timothy Drake.

Of course Jason remembers him.

A really sweet guy, a voice that could talk anyone out of crying and a mind that thought up ideas a mile a minute, ideas the world wasn’t ready for in the slightest. And Jason loved him for that.

Loved.

Past tense.

So, during their last few weeks of high school, Jason looking forwards to his half ride to the Arts program in Gotham U, he noticed that Tim had grown distant.

One thing to understand about Tim is that, while he’s usually quiet around his peers, he’s a complete chatterbox and open book around his closest friends, which included Jason. But he was starting to cut himself off from everyone. Phone calls here, there and everywhere, interrupting all of their little ‘get together’ sessions (Read- Make out sessions) which always left Jason feeling a little, okay, a lot, left out of Tim’s life. Even stranger, Tim had grown into the habit of looking over his shoulder. Being cautious. Achingly so. They broke off their relationship soon after Jason started seeing these things and wanted to know what was going on. They’d both brought it up at the same time, but Tim never told Jason his reason for wanting to break up with him.  
He thought that Tim was cheating on him, always thinking the worst of people was his bad habit, but that changed the day he was set to move out to Gotham U campus. A voice message;

“Hey, Jason, I know that we just broke up, and… stuff, but I wanted to make sure you knew this before you thought anything bad of me… I really care about you, and I know you’ve been working towards this college since you were sixteen, and you really deserve it…”

At first Jason thought that the message ended there at first, but it didn’t.

“I hope that, maybe, one day we can try this again, when we’re older, and I just- I just want to let you know…”

Jason waits on a baited breath every time he listens to this message, the last thing Tim ever sent him.

“I love you.”

He always mouths the words when he listens, but the breathless way Tim says it drives him crazy, and it makes Jason miss him more. And part of him just knows, that Tim still loves him, and he still loves Tim.

#

It’s May, the twentieth.

And Jason Todd is seething.

He’s at the bank for a reason he doesn’t remember right now, he just knows that he has the complete right to be pissed at Roy Harper right now. The mentioned red head is standing right next to him, looking guilty as all hell, like he should be.

Jason checks his phone, and by god does he need a new one. The whole endeavor caused by Roy cracked his phone screen, and his patience level.

That’s when it happens.

The explosion.

The wall on the right side of the bank now has a smoking hole in the side, and about seven men charge through. Everyone drops to the ground like their lives depend on it, because they do. The men are armed, not heavily, they must be good enough to be that threatening without the large weapons. Two head to the entrance, another stays at the hole they created, three start heading towards the vaults and one is heading towards the main desk, where he is. Roy tackles him to the ground, and that’s when Jason’s luck gets worse.

Jason’s phone flies out of his grip and scatters across the tile, sliding to the foot of one of the attackers, going fast enough to tap against his boot. The attacker looks down to his boot, then the phone, and his gaze slowly raises to lock on Jason’s, and the gun man is lifting his foot, and he brings it down on the phone, which made Jason wince.

Only when he looks back up to the gunman does he realize he fucking gave himself away with that stupid phone.

The man, obviously taller than him, just as broad, and decked out in thick material clothes and menacing looking gauntlets stalks towards him. He’s looking down at him, and Jason’s pulse is drumming in his ears, he tries to make himself look small. But it’s too late.

He knows that the gunman is talking to the woman behind the desk, and she’s being a brave soul, denying him something.

It’s when he’s yanked up by the collar and facing the woman that he finally hears what the fuck is going on.

“-You, are going to tell me, what the codes are, or his brains will be the next fancy art piece you fuckers store down in that vault of yours.”

The woman is panicking, obviously, but he’s feeling numb. Maybe this is what the accepting death thing in the movies felt like. He never thought he would ever have to go through that. Hoped he would never until he was old.

“I-I don’t have the codes! I swear! I’m not that qualified!”

“Then let’s hope you get them right on the first go.” The man’s voice is dark, and the woman’s gaze flickers to one of the workers on the other side of the bank floor, behind the small terrarium that’s the centerpiece of the bank, and a man with dark skin and half-moon spectacles, meets the gun man’s eyes.

He can hear the words ‘Bingo’ before the gun man says them.

He knows that the man moves his arm to be around his neck, and the barrel of a gun is actually put to his head. He knows that the man was hauling him over to the man with the spectacles. He knows that there was a shout. He doesn’t know why he was tugged up by his hair. Maybe to get a look at his face. He also doesn’t know why the man who was looking over his face looked so panicked.

He’s shoved to the ground and another person, an older woman is hauled up, and he’s dazed. What the fuck is going on?

There’s gun shots and there’s one scream before it’s silenced again.

Apparently, even bank robbers get frustrated.

There’s the splash of warm blood on his face, and he feels like he’s going to puke, his throat clenching like a fist. Then there’s more yelling, and the police are there. Everything’s a bit of a blur, but the next thing he can see is a paramedic, blue hair, two eyebrow piercings, and bridge piercing and two studs on either side of her lower lip.

“-You hear what I am saying? Squeeze my hand if can hear me.”

He squeezes twice, and he sees the relief flood over her face.

Next thing he knows, Roy’s there, a bandage over his cheek, and another medic chasing after him, he obviously got up as soon as he saw Jason.

“Jason, dude, are you okay?”

Jason isn’t sure if he is.

#

He learns, after being questioned by the police, that the robbers are part of the Di Blanche Mob, a quiet but lethal enemy of ‘society’. Apparently it’s not even run by the family it’s named after anymore, which makes it harder to track down just who it is that’s holding the wheel. So Jason is hell bent on finding out why that man looked so scared when he looked at his face, and why it was connected to the Mob.

When he’s walking out of the station, he hears two older looking officers talking about a club, called Rogue Pearl, and he’s looking down at the ground, so he doesn’t notice that he’s walking right into a collision. Papers fly as he stumbles backwards, and he looks down to see a woman hurriedly swiping papers off the ground. He kneels down to help her.

“I am so sorry-

“Don’t worry about it.” Jason halts at the voice.

“Babs?”

#

“So you wanna know how to find the Mob? And why should I help you?”

“Look, Babs, when that guy looked at my face, he looked so scared, like he fucked up so bad he was gonna get pounded two ways to Sunday, and it means there’s something connecting me to the Mob.”

“Did you tell the officers that part?”

“Him recognizing me? Hell no, that’d just make me look sketchy.”

“You already look sketchy when you’re talking to someone in a broom closet.”

“… touché. Will you help me, though?”

“Ugh, fine, but only if you do me a favour in the future?”

“Got it.”

#

That’s how he ends up walking down a set of stairs into an abandoned subway tunnel, a coat borrowed from Dick and pants a fraction tighter than he usually prefers. He can feel the vibrations of music thrumming through the soles of his knee high boots, so he knows he’s close to the club.

The directions told him to keep walking past the first maintenance tunnel, then to go into the second tunnel and turn left, walk to the set of pale blue lights, and he can tell he’s right next to the club.  
He takes a deep breath, before taking the knocker on the metal door, and knocking twice.

Almost instantly, a small bar on the door slides to the side, and a pair of dark eyes are gazing down at him.

“Name?”

“Uh, Jason, Jason Todd?” He raises a hand to the side of his head, rubbing it absently, Babs buzzed it for him, since he hadn’t gone to the hair dressers for weeks, and she made sure his coils fell all artsy instead of just flopping, so they fall to the side of his face, dusting just over his left eyebrow. The eyes behind the door widen for a split second, and Jason can feel his eyebrows knit together for a split second, then remembers what Barbs told him, look like you belong and people will think it’s true.  
The eyeslot slams shut, and Jason swears that he can hear someone shouting from the other side, and the door opens. A young man with the same eyes that were looking down at him, shorter than him by at least three inches, is holding the door open, hand gesturing for him to come in. He goes in.

The change in lighting in something his eyes strain against, because in the tunnels at least he had cheap yellow lights there to guide him, now he had to follow this guy, luckily this guy was wearing a bright yellow shirt, and from what Jason could tell, it was workout gear with black mesh paneling on the upper arms and sides.

“Follow me.”

It’s not like he can do anything else.

#

The man, more like boy he looks so young, maybe seventeen, leads him around the dance floor, which is packed with people, and to what he presumes is the coat drop off. And now he feels a little nervous, the shirt Babs chose for him was a little bit, Extra.  
The boy stops there, seeming to wait for him to take off his coat.

“Trust me, you’ll want to take that off as soon as possible, it gets really hot in here.”

So after a few seconds of debating with himself, he unzips the coat, which goes down to the middle of his thighs, and takes it off, immediately feeling less stuffy. He hands the article to the man at the desk, lithe with platinum blonde hair and black rimmed glasses, and the man holds out a hand, a stamper in the other hand.

“He won’t need that, he’s going up to VIP.”

VIP?

The man nods and the boy starts walking again, and now Jason can see better.

As they move, Jason can feel the breeze he gets from walking fast go over the exposed skin his ‘shirt’ leaves in the open, especially the shoulders. They head up a set of stairs, to a more restaurant styles section, round booths with dim lighting lining the wall space available. The kid walks him over to the bar and says something over the pounding of the music below them to the bartender. The tender lifts a section of the bar so they can get through, and Jason doesn’t meet the searching eyes of the drink mixer, folding his arms over his stomach.

The shelf behind the bar wasn’t the only shelf, it went deeper than that, all kinds of booze from wine to Vanilla Vodka were in the small maze like structure. Then they reach a curtain, and the music from the club seems to had died out completely, maybe there was some sound proofing going on.

“Welcome to the Rogue Pearl, how may I serve you?” A very strong looking young woman pops up next to him, causing Jason to jump, and the boy walks up next to the woman, whispering into her ear. Her face changing from fake happy, to confused, shocked, and finally recognition.

“Right this way, sir.” It’s then that he notices she has a strange accent, Russian, maybe. She has black, curly hair that’s styles in a death hawk, stars shaved into the sides of her scalp, he doesn’t want his eyes to wander anywhere else so he keeps his eyes on her as they walk up even more stairs.

#

The woman stops by a very lavish looking booth on the third level, and Jason’s getting antsy, this whole thing screams run away.

“Sir, you have a very special visitor,” she calls out to the shadow in the booth. All Jason can see is a pair of hands holding a pen and a white book, the hands have black gloves on them.

“Who is it, Ari?”

“Jason Todd.” She’s still holding the curtain that separates this booth from the rest of the area, and she steps aside for him to go in. He steps cautiously past her, trying not to touch anything as he did, arms still around his middle.  
Ari lets the curtains close.

Jason looks back to the curtains, but whirls back to the booth when he hears fabric move against fabric, this ‘Sir’ guy is standing up, and turning around to face him. And he’s talking, in a voice Jason swears he hears every time he presses play on a particular message.

“Are you playing around or did I drink too much, because I swear I just heard you say…” It seems that Tim is also having his breath taken away, because damn if his reaction isn’t the same as Jason’s.

"Jason."

Tim filled out amazingly, he was able to skip a grade so he was a skinny seventeen-year-old when Jason had last seen him, they graduated at the same time because Jason had been held back a year, (complications had held him back) and he was wearing a suit for heaven’s sake, and looking damn good in it too. But it was his face that caught all of Jason’s attention in the end.

His eyes look like they’d seen things no one would be prepared to see, and his face looked all too used to frowning, not the smiling Jason knew could knock someone off their feet in one go.

“Hey,” he says weakly, not knowing whether to move forwards or run away, so his body stays stock still. Him speaking seems to make something shift in Tim, and the younger man suddenly comes to life, walking towards him.

“I know you probably hate me, we haven’t spoken in what, three years? But you haven’t reached out to me,” he blurted as Tim got closer, looking anywhere but him.

He took a step back.

“I said to myself I wouldn’t call you back until you called me, but guess what, that didn’t happen.”

He takes another step back, just as Tim’s a few feet away from him, he’s getting closer.

“I was mad, okay?! I was mad you left and wouldn’t tell me what was going on. And I know you must’ve been mad too-“

There’s a pair of lips on his, hand gently holding the back of his head and an arm curled around his trim waist, pulling his close to Tim’s solid body. They part, and Jason is speechless, but Tim looks sure of what he’s about to say.

“How could I be mad at you? How could I ever get mad at you?”

It sends heat rushing over Jason’s cheeks.

“God, you’re as gorgeous as the day I left you.”

#  
Fin.


	2. Regular Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love from within, time to begin...

Jason feels his breath battle in his chest, and the clamping down on his throat starts. Tim’s still holding him, as if he never wanted to let go. Jason wanted to be angry, to be yelling at Tim, because how? How could he just up and leave him? How could he stand there and be okay with him just showing up? 

How?

But what he does is hug him back, grip tight and shaking. Tim finds the crook in his neck and presses his face there, returning the thigh tear embrace. 

“You have no idea how sorry I am, I’m so sorry I had to leave you, I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to, for your own safety,” Tim breathes, seeming to catch up to everything that just happened.

He makes to move back, but Jason doesn’t want to let him leave. He doesn’t try again, instead starting to sway them, and finally, Jason feels a release for all the grief he felt over the years of them being apart, wondering if it was really because of him, if Tim had found someone who was better, and had thrown him away.

He doesn’t fully realise he’s crying until he hears Tim make a soft, comforting noise, telling him it’s okay.

“Why did you have to go? That’s what I’ve been asking you in my head for years, I never got an answer,” Jason sniffs, finally moving back, he feels a smile on his face, though it’s tired. 

“It’s... and this sounds shitty, but it’s complicated- and not safe to talk about here. Come on, I’ve got somewhere safer, where we can talk.”

“Talking would be nice.”

#

He pulls Jason along behind him, out of his private booth, and to a large set of Black double doors, he produces a key from his sleeve and slots the key in, twisting with practiced ease. The doors opened to a hallway, which turned to a sharp right, there was barely any light.

The hallway led to another set of doors, these ones opened as soon as a sensor registered them.

“Facial Data: Codes- Boss and- Scanning: List No. 1, access: unlimited. Welcome back, Mr Drake.”

“Evening, Birdie, turn on lights.” Tim watches as the lights slowly turn on, easier for the eyes to adjust to.

The room was a long meeting room, a thin, oblong table sat in the middle, made of white and grey marble, expensive looking leather chairs sit, placed evenly around the table. Tim walks past these, leaving Jason to wander as he pleases. He works on removing his blazer, revealing his crisp white shirt and black vest over it. 

“This is the meeting room, where you’re standing, once stood one of the biggest crime bosses in the world.”

“And who was that?”

“Well, it was some Russian mobster, but now its me.” Tim continues to watch Jason, choosing to actually get a look at him in the better lighting.

He’s wearing a pair of dark boots, the tops barely touch the bottom of his knees. His jeans are pale grey, no tears or smudges. And he knows that the shirt he’s wearing doesn’t belong to him, because Tim knows that Jason wouldn’t be caught dead owning what could barely be defined as a turtleneck.

The sleeves reach a little past his wrists and the collar comes under his chin. The front is completely normal, but the back is spectacular. Two symmetrical cut outs stretch from the hem of his shirt and stop at the apex of his shoulders, the visible skin covered in thin white mesh. Evenly spaced are three strips of fabric, breaking the mesh and giving of an effect of having a small waist, which is near impossible for how small Jason’s waist is already.

“It’s you? Last time I saw you, you were some nerd who could name every ship and Jedi in Star Wars-“

“Still can, by the way.”

“And now you’re telling me that you’re basically in charge of all the world’s crime?” Jason turns to him, his dazzling eyes judgemental. Tim sighs. 

“Well, you want the story?”

“Yes, I think almost three years is enough of a wait, Tim.”

#

He’s fifteen when it all starts.

He’s in high school, something all those over the top movies have prepared him for. He first meets Stephanie, and they end up in detention together for the same reason; someone played a prank and lined their lockers with the evidence.

“Well, this is going to be so fun to explain to my over bearing parents.”

“Yeah, my mom’s gonna kill me.” Tim sighed, trying to flip a pencil through his fingers, dropping it every third or fourth twirl. There were three other students in the classroom with them, another freshman, a guy, platinum blonde hair and glasses with black rims, pretending to do homework on his computer, but he was playing online chess. A girl in sports clothes, listening to music and drawing absentmindedly on the desk. And a girl sitting at the front, looking like she was going to implode from stress.

Fifteen minutes passed, seeming like forever, Tim and Steph even started playing Tic Tac Toe.

The teacher at the front looked like she wanted to have a nap, and was nearly there, Tim was poised with Steph to wait for the best moment to bolt and speed out of the school.

Then the door opened, a tall guy standing there, though he was a bit lanky, and hunched nervously.

“Miss Davids? You wanted the sign up templates printed out?” The teacher sat up straight, snorting. Damn it, she’d just fallen asleep.

“Oh, Jason, thank you, I’d forgotten completely about that, you can go pin those up around the school.” The guy, Jason, stuttered a little.

“But that’ll take twenty minutes, on my own, could I get a hand?”

Tim whipped his head to Steph, and she nodded at him. 

Tim shot his hand up, smiling sweetly.

“Steph and I could help, Miss.”

Miss Davids looked them over, and to the clock.

“Detention’s almost over, I don’t see why not.”

Tim and Steph stand, hauling their bags with them, making sure to get out of the room as quick as possible. Brushing past Jason, Tim shares a fist bump with Steph, who winks at Jason.

“This is a big school, you guys take the East and West Wings, I’ll take the courtyard and front, okay?”

#

Riding the bus home alone was never fun, even less fun when there’s the obvious ‘I got detention’ vibes rolling off you in waves. Well, he isn’t really alone, the Jason kid is sitting up the front, reading something. Tim takes a risk and moves closer to him, one row at a time. Jason doesn’t realise until he’s three rows behind him.

“What do you want?” He spit, snapping his book shut. Tim ran a hand through his hair, hoping the smile across his face is relaxed.

“Just trying to see what you’re reading, and how long it would take you to notice.” Annoyance radiates off Jason like heat from a fire.

“It’s Freaks, a story about a wolf girl who’s been a roadside attraction all her life, trying to figure out steam power era England and solving the case of missing children.”

“Are there ninjas?”

“Excuse me?” Jason turned in his seat to face him, and Tim saw all the splotchy freckles on his face. That and his slightly offended expression made him look adorable.

“Are. There. Ninjas?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“With how it sounds, it must be awesome, so there’s obviously ninjas in it.” Tim rested his chin on the metal bar above each of the bus seats, and Jason edged away.

“There, actually is a ninja; her name’s Sister Moon.”

“She sounds cool.”

“She is, she has these weird eyes that-“ Jason paused, going back to staring at Tim, skeptic.

“What?”

“Why are you even talking to me?”

“I... I think you’re interesting?”

“Is that a question or an answer?”

“Both?”

#

When he closed the gate to his house and turned to the patio, he expected his mother to be there, still in her business suit, arms crossed, face in a frown and toe tapping impatiently. But instead, it’s his dad out the front of the house, pacing, seemingly nervous. He brightens when he sees Tim, and opened the door, ushering him inside.

“Tim, your mother has to speak to you about something.”

“What is it?” He dropped his bag at the front door, the jingles of his key chains waking up Fenrir, his mother’s Afghan Hound.

“Something to be discussed in private, Jack, I’ll need a moment.”

“Of course.”

“Timothy, take a seat.” 

#

Tim said nothing as he waited for his mother to start speaking, she continued to fill out papers and tap her pen on her large desk in a steady rhythm.

“I was conctacted by one of my distant cousins, a few months back, by the last name Di Blanche- do you recognise anything about that name, Timothy?”

“They were witches, lots of them were burnt on the stake, but a some of them got away.”

“Precisely, Timothy. These witches had power over a whole village, everyone followed their command and never once questioned them- Timothy, look at me when I’m speaking to you- because the witches protected them, in exchange for goods.” Janet stood, and started to pace the office, slowly, deliberately.

“My cousin called me because he knew that my business was hitting some rough patches, and he offered to help me and the business name. I was desperate and needed a lifeline.” She stopped, standing behind him.

“The Di Blanche family is also infamous for running illegal activities along with their banking and real estate managing services- a factor I chose to ignore for the benefits of my company and employees. And ignoring it was a mistake.”

Tim could feel his temperature drop.

“He didn’t name what his repayment would be, and he called today, asking for you to be placed into his ranks, to work for his illegal practices and to be the leverage he needs to keep me controlled. Had I thought it out, I would have pushed through those rough times and not accepted his help, but here we are.”

She walked back to her chair, and sat down, staring out the window.

“I know when you want to ask a question, Timothy, ask it.”

“Why me?”

“Because he knows you’re one of the only things I actually care about, Tim, I’d think you’d know it too.”

There was a moment of silence before she spoke again.

“You’ll be meeting him face to face tomorrow, at four am. So have dinner, do your homework and get some sleep, you’ll need it.”

#

“So, it all started back then, before I even really knew you. That’s why I didn’t notice until the last few months of us being together- but I still should have seen something-“

Tim reaches over the small distance between them and the table, to hold one of his hands.

“Jason, I’m good at hiding things, including myself, if you count the past two and a half years.” He brings the hand close to his lips, and presses a chaste, comforting kiss upon Jason’s knuckles, then smoothing them over with his free hand. 

“You know, I always knew that your hands were bigger than mine, but damn.” Jason huffs at Tim’s feeble attempt to lighten the mood of life stories.

“But that doesn’t explain how all of- this,” he gestures to the whole room, wide and clean, “how did all of this happen?”

“I think that I can only bring up one story a time, Jason, besides, your campus gates close in about forty minutes, wouldn’t want you to get locked out and worry your friends, right?” Tim looks to Jason, who looks like he wants to push it further. That’s when Duke interrupts.

“Tim, your meeting is scheduled for six in the morning, do you want me to-“ Duke broke off, seeing Jason and Tim, sitting so close together.

“Keep it scheduled there, Duke, could you give Jason here a ride to Gotham U campus?”

“Of course, right now, Tim?”

“Yes, I need to take care of some things before the meeting.” Tim stands, still holding Jason’s hand.

“But I don’t want to leave you again,” Jason whispers, “is there any way I can contact you?”

Tim tugs his hand, and brings out the pen in his breastpocket, writing down a number on Jason’s hand.

“This is my number on one of my phones, it’s safe, untraceable.” They walk to the doors, and when they pass through them, Tim sees Duke came through the garage entrance, up the elevator.

“Is there anything else, Jason?”

“Well, there is one thing.”

#

“Hey, Steph, could I ask you a quick favour?”

“Sure thing, Timmy, what is it?”

“A certain someone made a deal with someone in the force for my location and need you to mess around with their devices.”

“He found you?”

“Yes, So, can you do it?”

“You’re talking to a pro, Timmy. Hey, is he there with you?”

“Yeah, you wanna talk to him?”

“Of course, we’ve been friends for five years!”

...

“Hey, Stephie.”

“Jason, you dumb bitch, you asked the police, the god damned police, to tell you the location? You know I have underground connections-“

“Steph, please, let me live.”

#

He watches Jason’s ride leave, driven by one of his most trusted chauffeurs.

When the car leaves the garage, he turns to Duke.

“Duke, get Markus Whittemore here at two am, I need to speak to him.”

“The leader of the team who attacked the bank?”

“Yes, it seems he needs a lesson on discipline and following my rules.”

#

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys!! FYI, the book Jason is reading in the bus scene I real! And it’s a really cool book, totally recommend. Hopefully this explains some things you guys were curious about. And!!! I have other AU’s I’m dying to talk about with you guys! Here are some;  
> SPN AU  
> Werewolf AU  
> Dragon AU  
> And Pirate AU
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!


	3. I mean, what I mean, when I say so...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The things we do change us, for it is not our names or circumstances that define us, but our actions alone. 
> 
> ...
> 
> Tim just hopes his actions don’t drive Jason away for good.

The plastic tarp crinkles under his feet as he circles around Markus, hands clasped behind his back, in white surgeons gloves, not his usual black ones. The man is tied to a chair, his head shaved and a spotlight on him, making him sweat and gleam, for all eyes in the room to see. 

Most of the leaders under his control are present, some going to attend the meeting at six, and had wanted to see a show, or present to any new students they had taken under their wing, to show what a true leader did when a pawn stepped out of line.

“Markus, how about you do the honours of listing off my simple, easy rules. Hmm? Tell the people exactly what they have to do to avoid punishment.” He feels a sick happiness, clogging his lungs as the man, the man who broke a very simple rule, shakes at his presence.

“Come on, what’s number one?” He stops at Markus’ side, bending at the waist to have his mouth level with his ear.

The man shakes, and mumbles some sounds.

“I want to hear you say it, Markus. You know what happens when I don’t get what I want, when I want,” he says, calm and even, just like he was taught years ago.

He hasn’t even touched the man and Whittemore looks like he’s close to pissing himself. Tim turns, walks off the tarp to the cart provided to him, makes the clatter of metal against metal clear. He trains his men well, almost to the point of them possibly not cracking under pressure. Almost.

His eyes catch the pile of clothes close by. Markus’. He was stripped, forcefully, when he arrived, dragged in by Micheal and his own right hand man.

Markus still said nothing, and Tim sighs, choosing a thin scalpel, perfect for what he intended to do. He’s been wearing this mocking mask for years now, it feels like a sickening second skin.

He starts to twirl the small instrument, with ease, and goes back to circling Markus.

“This, ladies and gentlemen, is the man who led the attack on the Gotham Bank, and he broke, not just one, but two of my rules that day- since you won’t tell me the rules, I’ll just, spell it out for you.” He clicks his fingers, scalpel poised in his left hand. 

He waits for the two who brought him in, Micheal, a close friend and the best forger on the coast, then Samuel, dear Samuel, Markus’ own right hand man, the one who told Tim of the crime.

They grab Markus by the shoulders and shove him forward. The ropes allowed enough movement so Tim could access Markus’ sweaty, shaking shoulders. Tim grabs the small stool that was next the cart, positioning it behind Markus.

“Hold him, if he moves a muscle, the scalpel goes deeper- you hear that, Markus? You move and I make my mark even more permanent.” Tim wants to throw up. He knows it’s his voice and he has to do this, but it doesn’t mean there isn’t a part of him that wants to run away and cry.

“Anyone have any objections?” He raises his hands, in bravado, gazing, seeing if anyone thinks this isn’t the best course of action. No one moves or speaks.

“Great, which one should I do first, Markus? The first or second rule you broke? Because, honestly, both of them are bad, but I’m hoping you pick the second one, because that one made me even more angry,” he lets himself hiss the last part, places the scalpel upon Markus’ skin, and presses.

Blood immediately starts to seep from the cut, and Markus hisses. It’s a shallow, straight cut, and Tim repositions his wrist, but chooses to switch to his other hand to get the curve of the letter R just right.

He gets to the U in NUMBER when Markus shudders, leaning forward the tiniest bit, so he presses the scalpel in deeper. He’s pretty sure he hits a nerve when he starts M, and Markus shouts:

“Rule! Rule number One!” Tim doesn’t move the scalpel a single millimetre, and waits patiently.

“Yes, Markus?” The man takes a deep breath, gathering his surroundings.

There’s silence. 

“So that’s how you’re gonna play it, huh? Say something just for a break?” Tim sits back, and his hand goes to the small towel on his thigh, streaked with blood. He wipes off the scalpel. The tarp has a small pool of blood.

“Well, two can play a game, but how about we play by my rules? Not a question, by the way.” He turns his head to the side.

“Time.”

“Twenty minutes to three, Sir.”

“Thank you. May, get me the blowtorch.”

That gets a reaction from Markus, who bucks wildly, so hard that Samuel loses his grip for a second. Micheal tackles him, sending Markus and the chair to the floor.

Micheal gets his neck in a lock and Markus stills, and Tim stands, accepting the blowtorch from May.

“What say you, ladies and gentlemen? Did that earn him the whole rule? Or both?”

There’s a murmur, and Tim hears many say both.

“Well, well, well, everyone agrees- after this is done, that’s when I really make everything Hell for you.”

Micheal and Samuel right Markus, and since he broke the part of the chair that held the roped section of his wrists, Tim tells them:

“Get him on his stomach. Leaders, if I could borrow some of your muscle, to hold down his legs.” Tim plucks the chair off the ground and sets it a ways away from the rule breaker.

Dimitri and Hans send forward one of each of their body guards.

Tim lights the torch, and runs the blade of the scalpel through it, until it burns red hot. He steps between the men holding Markus down and straddles his back, admiring his handiwork.

“Now, this is gonna hurt, but, oh, I don’t care.”

#

It’s six minutes past four when Tim walks away from the tarp, Markus passed out from pain, so the men stopped holding him down. His wounds were sanitised and he was tended to, given his clothes and expected to resign all of his listed equipment by four in the afternoon.

He had all of the rules he had broken burnt into his back, in perfect print.

“Doesn’t it ever affect you? Doing that?” Tim looks up from his hands, in his comfortable black gloves, to look at Duke, dressed in a soft grey two piece tweed and a pale yellow turtleneck sweater. 

“Everything I do changes me, Duke, you’ll have to be more specific,” he drawls, and hopes the tired grin on his face eases Duke, but the younger boy looks sick.

“It’s just- I always feel sick to the stomach whenever you take me to those things, and, I know that you are a kind person, but how can you do those things- and not have it eat at you?” Tim lets the air fall heavy with silence.

“What has been a big lesson I’ve told you while you’ve been under my wing, Duke? About assumptions?”

Duke looks down at the limousine floor, fidgeting in his seat.

“You never assume that the intel is solid, because someone will always have the motive to lie to you,” Tim recites the lesson he was taught at fifteen, by a man who had disappeared long ago.

“You never speak out on what you think is the truth, until you have found the actual truth- you can’t read my mind, so you don’t know how it kills me to put on a mask and meet the gruesome expectations of those vile people- they do worse, you know.” Duke nods, and Tim leaves the subject be.

“Have a shower, when we get back, make sure you wash everything- do that after every time I take you to those places. It doesn’t do much, but having a solid, little ritual after those things helps, grounds you. I don’t need you floating off into guilt for things you didn’t do.”

#

“Did you get laid?”

“Roy, what the fuck? What time is it?”

“Seven thirty. Did you get laid?”

Jason sits up. He fell asleep on the couch, still wearing the skimpy shirt and too tight jeans. At least he took off his boots.

“No, Roy, I didn’t get laid- I did make out with someone, though.” He sits up, feeling groggy.

“Who?”

“Someone hot.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t a full answer either. Jason laughed at Roy’s groan.

“Seriously, Jason, you go to a semi legal night club, and you say that you didn’t get laid?”

#

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... okay so that happened.


	4. ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...

Jason groaned as the coffee machine beeped angrily, light on its side flashing red. He leant back on his counter. His, Roy just crashed and paid the occasional portion of his rent and owned a pair of the keys.

Said red head was snoring off on the couch, not doing anything. Jason ran his hand over the back of his head, hissing at the still very there bruise from the attack on the bank. He gave the coffee machine one last chance to give him caffeine, not like it had the last twelve times he’d checked it over and made sure everything was clean.

Nothing.

“Guess I’ll have to go and interact with people to get coffee. Great. Awesome. Totally wanted to talk to people today. Not.” He checked his phone (still fucking cracked. Thanks, Roy) and wanted to cry when it told him that he had nine minutes to walk all the way from the dorms to the very back of the college, which definitely took a journey longer than nine minutes, to his first lecture. Thankfully, he only had two. But... still. 

Add the aching need for coffee and some sort of trash food he knows he shouldn’t crave- it took about sixteen minutes to arrive to the lecture on women in history. He made sure to steer clear of a very familiar head of blonde hair and sat on the left of the lecture hall seats.

Some students glared at him, but otherwise he wasn’t noticed. He purposefully avoided eye contact with Stephanie, knowing the second she saw him, she’d be plotting his slow demise.

Best friends are awesome, aren’t they?

###

It takes her until the lecture is over to storm over to him, and she makes sure she stops right in front of him, hands on her hips. He tries his best smile, which is ruined by the deep circles under his eyes and glassy zombie look he usually manages to scare people off with.

“Hey, Stephie, how’s it goin’?” Of all things, he did not expect her to take him by the ear and drag him, protesting and hissing at the pain in his ear, to a supplies closet, push him in there, enter it herself and slam the door closed.

She flicked the light on.

“What the fuck were you thinking, dumbass!? Working with the police?! Have you finally lost your mind?!” She whisper yelled into his face, hair smelling like coconut oil and skin perfumed vanilla. Steph was not a tiny girl, she had the waist of one, but nothing else. If she wanted to throw down with him, she would very well do so. And have a fifty percent chance of winning.

“You better explain yourself, Jason.” She let go of his collar, which he didn’t know she took hold of in the first place, and gave him space, huffing, pissed off.

“You know how there was an attack on the bank?” He fidgets with his hands, not exactly liking his first (not the last) near death experience, or even thinking back to it.

She nodded, her hoops swaying with the motion.

“I was there, and I kinda got taken hostage- everything was a blur, and next thing I know, one of the guys that was attacking saw my face, and everyone started freaking out.” He took a breath.

Steph turned quiet, she’d listened to a lot of his retellings of his past, a lot of them glossed over at first, then later revealed to be much, much deeper.

“The guys run, medics come and check me over, then I’m in the police precinct, being questioned. I didn’t tell them anything about being the reason why the attackers got spooked and ran, or that I got the feeling they recognised me- like I was someone important.”

He cut off, trying to find his next words.

“I left the room, and I ended up bumping into an old friend of mine- remember Babs?”

“Are you fucking kidding- of course I know Barbs, she fucks with my systems every month when she feels like it- good thing I get better every time she does- and she’s the Commissioner’s. Mother. Fucking. Daughter.”

“I know, I know, she she’s sworn not to tell anyone about this.”

“You of all people trust the police?”

“Babs isn’t like that-“

“So she doesn’t flash a badge around to get places, manipulate people’s words or trick people into admitting falsehoods?”

“Steph, she isn’t like that.”

“You really wanna tell me that? You’re not the one she tried to put behind bars.”

They both fall quiet, until Steph tells Jason to continue.

He tells her about talking to Babs and striking a deal with her for the location of the Rogue Pearl, then meeting Tim after years of no communication.

“And now we’re here, taking in a supply closet after you dragged me by my ear. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Shut up, you’re still a fucking idiot.”

“Why, thank you.”

###

Tim woke up to a phone call.

He moaned at the loss of sleep and swatted his hand around to find the loud device. He answered and put it on speaker.

“This is Drake,” he said robotically, rubbing his eyes, yawning as he waited for the person to answer.

“Tim, it’s Stephanie- we have a problem.”

“What?” At the word problem his mind immediately flashed to someone trying to take over his empire.

“I asked Jason for his phone to comb through it- and I found a bug.”

This wasn’t good.

“Who’s design?”

“I think you know exactly whose it is, I was able to delete everything it ever sent and card through her systems, earasing everything I could- but I don’t know how many more bugs Babs placed on him.” Tim sighed, and he knew that he had to do something. Even though Babs was good, and she was really good, she wasn’t the same type of hacker as Steph. She used systems that could be tracked- she was putting herself in danger if she did more than she could manage.

Steph designed and made every system and device she used by herself- a genius in tech engineering and coding.

“It might not be a good idea to take him to any of your- ‘secret places’ - until I can get everything out.”

“What if he just leaves his phone behind?”

“... that was ridiculous and you know it. We live in the 21st century, we basically define ourselves by our phones.”

###

Three years ago:

Jason paced the marble halls of the museum, fidgeting with his sleeves as he waited.

Tim’s father had called him, to meet him in person, and Jason’s anxiety sky rocketed. Jackson Drake wasn’t an imposing man, he was short, around Tim’s height then, shorter than his wife, shorter than Tim, actually, standing at 5’6”, while Tim grew later on to stand at 5’10 at adulthood.

He smiled more than his wife, and chatted with school faculty whenever he was called to be a guest for a history lesson, and he had a soft voice. But he was stern with rowdy students, luckily, Jason had never found himself on the man’s bad side.

About three people had passed him as he paced in front of the Restoration Room, where Mr Drake had told him to wait for him. It’d only been two minutes and he felt like it’d been an hour. Just as he passed a painting done by some alternative artist, the doors opened, making Jason freeze and hurry to right himself.

“Jason, it’s good to see you again, come in, we can talk while I work.”

“Mr Drake! Uh- I mean, ahem, Mr Drake, Sir, good to see you too.”

“Call me Jack, Mr Drake always makes me feel old.”

###

They stayed in silence for a very long time, Jack mending the back of a painting canvas and humming to the classical music that was always playing in the museum. Jason looked around, pushing his glasses back up his nose- damn the steep slope of it.

“It seems that my son has taken a liking to you, Jason. It isn’t easy for Tim to make friends, so his mother and I were hesitant to place him in high school after him being home schooled for the first half of his education. Though everything seems to be going well, right?”

“Yes, Sir,” Jason added the Sir on after a beat, but saying it made Jack pause, and he turned to Jason, mask still over his mouth so he wasn’t able to contaminate the ancient artworks in the workspace.

“Are you nervous around me?”

“I- um...”

“I don’t think I’ve given any reason to make people nervous around me.”

“You haven’t, Jack, it’s just, I’ve never really spoken to you outside of a classroom or completely alone.”

They stayed silent for a few seconds before Jack put down his tools and pulled down his mask, the grey gloves staying on. 

“Come on, walk with me.”

###

Jason kicked the door to his apartment shut, feeling awful and tired. It was four in the afternoon, and his mind was going in circles.

Why didn’t he tell me?

Why couldn’t he tell me?

Why did she bring him into this?

How many times did I think something was off and never question it?

Why didn’t I ask?

Why didn’t he tell me?

He walked to his room and sagged along the way, dragging his feet as he stepped. He didn’t need to think anymore, just sleep.

Jason dropped his bag and flopped onto the bed, only taking off his glasses as a second thought. As he waited for sleep to come, he didn’t hear the door to the apartment open, or hear someone creep into his room.

He didn’t stand a chance against the chloroform.

###

Jack had an energy around him that said he was sure of himself and where he was going, an energy Jason lacked back then. He walked with his hands behind his back and his shoulders squared, back straight and steps even. He fit in with the clean lines of the museum, and the warm lighting.

“How much do you know about him?”

“Sorry?”

“How much do you know about Tim? I need to know.”

“Uh, he- um- ah, sorry, I, usually not like this.”

“Oh, I know, Tim talks about you a lot, and he’s not exactly silent when he talks to you on the phone, or his reactions whenever you text him- I seriously thought a possum got into the attic.”

Jason felt heat in his cheeks at the thought of Tim being excited to hear from him, in just a simple text. Tim must’ve really liked him then. Jack stopped, and Jason stumbled a bit, turning back to the man.

“I just want you to promise me something, Jason. Don’t let him get hurt. He’s very important to me, and his mother. Neither of us know what we would do if we lost him in any way. Can you promise me to keep him safe?”

“Yes, of course.”

###

“Tim, we got a problem.” Stephanie stood from her crouch before Jason’s door handle, pocketing her lock picks. She scanned the corridor once more, and glanced at the camera at the end of the hall. She checked her phone, the feed was still looped.

“Scale out of ten?” Tim asked her through the phone, sounding like he was sorting some papers. She eased the door open and slipped her right hand into her jacket, to the small glock concealed in her secret pocket, a small Pikachu charm hanging from the base of the grip.

She took a moment to scan the living room as she nudged the door shut, adjusting the phone to sit between her ear and shoulder. Jason’s hoodie she saw him in was hanging haphazardly on his door handle- her mind went to using it to conceal fingerprints, but then it wouldn’t be there, if someone had used it for that purpose.

“Jason out of ten. The link I put on his phone is going haywire, and I just called his friend- you know Roy, right? Roy said Jason went back to his apartment, but I’m standing right in his room- he isn’t here.” Steph picked around Jason’s room when she entered.

He didn’t take off the shoes he was wearing that day, his bag was tipped onto it’s side, Stephanie knows that Jason was a bit of a clean freak when it came to his room. There was an imprint on the bed, and a strange pattern on the carpet, as if someone was dragged-

Oh no.

“Someone took him, this place is empty and nothing looks like Jason put up a fight- I’m thinking chloroform, if he thought he was being attacked, there’d be blood from a broken nose or something.”

“Check for anything that could tell us where he is- this is either someone really stupid, or, someone who’s stupid enough to hack into your systems and think they could get away with it.”

“On it, get the IT teams to scan the cameras.”

###

Two years earlier:

“You really like him, don’t you?” Jason looked up from his book, The Keepers II, to Steph’s face. She was leaning back on her chair, pencil between her teeth as she squinted at him, or at least he thought she was, she was wearing shades. 

“Uh, yeah?”

“Like him more than a friend?” Steph looked out to the ice rink of the school, then down to her work book in her lap. Tim was at practice so they decided to wait for him to finish. He played the forward for the hockey team.

“I don’t think I’ve ever liked someone more than a friend- I don’t exactly have many friends, Stephie.”

“Jason, you’re like an open book, example A- whenever Tim wears those tight jeans you stare at his ass for hours. Example B- you bite your lip whenever Tim does that thing where he sweeps back his hair. Conclusion- you’ve got it bad for him.”

“I do not, I do those things all the time. I stare because I get bored, and the chewing’s a habit I’ve had for years.”

“Okay, then look down there.”

So, Jason did, and saw Tim taking off his helmet to talk to the goalie, a red head called Simon, and he did the hair thing, by taking off his right mitt and tucking it with his helmet under his left arm. He ran his ran through his hair, long enough to sweep back and stay in place after that, except for the right part that always fell with a soft wave on the side of his face.

Jason didn’t realise he was biting his lip until Steph cackled next to him.

“Damn it.”

###

Duke paced the door in front of the IT room, the team working to scan every camera in the city, every car and vehicle that left the campus or anyone looking suspicious.

He wrung his hands and his breathing was as erratic as his heartbeat.

“Come on, Come on, pick up...”

His ear piece continued to ring softly, but after the set amount of rings, it went to voicemail. Duke stopped at the door, looking in. Ives, head of the IT team, was standing, back to the door, with one person on either side of him, both holding tablets and frantically typing. They’d been searching since the call came in that a Lister was taken, specifically, a top ranking one.

Taken in the middle of the day, 6’2” and a large build, no living relatives- outside of jail- and no known enemies. Who would it be?

“Sirs, I found something.” Duke jumped at the addresses and sped through the door, standing next to Ives. Ives was tall, with long legs and arms to match- he had platinum blonde hair, pale grey eyes and black rimmed glasses. His brows were pale and thick, and his lips were thin. 

“I picked up the last signal of the Lister’s phone, and some traces of bugs in it-“

“The hacker Spoiler already found that- she’s running everything on her systems too.”

“I know, but right when his signal was going haywire, it gave multiple locations in a space of a millisecond- I checked all of them and found this location-“ Duke made his way to the desk of the hacker who was speaking, black hair, headset and a blue collared shirt, “this car was parked in an alleyway around two minutes away from campus, and in the space of five minutes, was gone- now, it’s who it belongs to that’s the most interesting.”

The hacker typed into the keyboard, and a screen showed up. The plate of the car, and if it was correct, it belonged to a man called Jack Napier.

“Recognise that name?”

“The Clown’s plaything.”

“Correct, Di Blanche has been at odds with the Circus Crew for a few months now, guess Miss Quinn thought it best to make a hit on the boss’s most sensitive subject.”

“His past....” Ives looked up from the screen.

“Everyone! I need all Jam Cams searched for this license plate- it’s on the main screen now. Review all recent reports on Jack Napier- we need to find that Lister.”

###

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, know it’s been a while, but ive been working on this chapter for a while now, because I wasn’t sure with what I wanted to do to the story. Hopefully this doesn’t seem too out there...

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! Thank you so much for reading this!!! This is my first ever, official fanfiction!! i'm super pumped to hear anything you guys have to say or critique about, so please, comment below. (Please don't leave any hate.) Title is a line from the song, Are You That Somebody. (The version that inspired this was the mash up by Pentatonix)


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